I've heard of you, and, no, you can't
speak to my daughter!
We, here, at IPR, YFITA, can be as sentimental as the next
Which reminds me, scoot over, our colognes are
It has come to the attention of the male members of our
esteemed team that just as the mistletoe is finally
crumbling into uselessness, another, um, event, is
rounding into view and barrelling down the home stretch to
embarrass and tease us again.
Now, we have nothing against office romances, but since
most of us are married to someone who doesn't work or
doesn't work here, this whole thing can get to be a bit
awkward, considering the number of idiots running around
here with digital cameras and no scruples at all.
We've had our share of blackmail. And we're almost paid up
with the anonymous weasel who witnessed the event we're
paying for the privilege of not talking about. Say no